This is the Barney of the Press Club of Berlin, the man called by Lt. Gen. Gavin ""the incomparable public relations officer"". Here is the war correspondent's backstage spotlighting of World War II, by a man who was in the center of things, from Grosvenor Square to Berlin. Of typewriters and correspondents Oldfield sings, proudly, hoarsely, sentimentally, hysterically. He writes of the paper soldiers who assembled in pubs and prensrooms, waded onto beaches with the attackers, parachuted into trees, jeeped to victory with flash bulbs and poker chips. hodgepodge of unforgettable stories and tall tales, bloopers and lollapaloozas. There was the teletypist who was perfecting her speed and forget to destroy her practice sheets so that she accidentally wired the world the story of the Invasion. There was the Christmas the Press gave the Dutch orphans. There was the enterprising journalist, supported by a platoon, who won the surrender of 20,000 German soldiers. There are famous names, British and American. But the Press is the hero. The facts are tossed together, salad fashion, and along with the fun, aim at a sober record.